


Take Me Home, to My Heart

by EclecticMuse



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas Fluff, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa 2018, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 11:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17243714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse
Summary: Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz have been inseparable best friends since childhood, but when Fitz decides to attend university thousands of miles away in another country, Jemma worries that the distance might lead them to grow apart. Thankfully, over the years Fitz shows her that she has absolutely nothing to worry about. An AU written for the 2018 Fitzsimmons Secret Santa exchange.





	Take Me Home, to My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stormkpr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormkpr/gifts).



> This was written for Stormkpr (jemleofan on Tumblr) who requested any of the following: Cozy. Relief. Safe harbor. Together--just FitzSimmons. Conversation. I hope this ticked at least a few of those boxes and that it's something you'll enjoy! Merry Christmas!

There were a few constants in Jemma Simmons’ life. There were the cold and windy winters in her home city of Sheffield, tea with toast and her favorite jam on the weekends, and perfect scores on all her exams. There were summer nights spent out in the back garden stargazing and watching meteor showers with her father. And there was Leo Fitz.

Fitz was her best friend in the world. He’d moved to Sheffield when he was ten years old, the product of an unhappy marriage that had finally broken apart and gone in search of pastures new. His aunt and two cousins lived in the city, and his mum had decided she wanted to be closer to family in order to start over with her son. Jemma had met him when he’d shown up in her class at school just before Christmas that year, all quiet and pale and scrawny with an unruly mop of curly hair. He’d looked distrustful of everyone as their teacher had directed him to sit at the only empty desk left in the room, right next to her, but she had immediately wanted to be friends.

It had taken a couple of days and a few false starts to get him to talk to her, and a little while longer past that for him to really open up, but eventually Fitz and Jemma became inseparable.  They sat next to each other at lunch every day, they stuck together during break time, they even started going to each other’s houses on the weekend. They talked incessantly, before and after school and any moment in between that they could. Together they formed a tight pair, a united front against those who might tease Jemma for being too opinionated or Fitz for being too short in both stature and patience.

None of that changed as they grew older, moving from primary into secondary school and navigating the evermore confusing channels of teenage social life. If anything, they only grew closer. Their peers took to calling them ‘FitzSimmons’, they were so inextricable. Jemma thought it was sweet, in an amusing way, while Fitz took a little longer to warm up to the portmanteau--but eventually even he answered to it in the hallways of their school.

Jemma had never met anyone like Fitz. There was no one else who understood her as easily as he did, who could keep up with her quick mind or anticipate her moods before she herself even knew how she felt. No one made her laugh like Fitz, and no one held her interest like he did. Fitz was her favorite person, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

Which was what made his decision to attend university in America so painful.

“You know it’s the best choice for me,” he said one evening, sitting sideways on her bed with his feet hanging off the edge of the mattress. “MIT is the top engineering school in the world.”

“I know,” Jemma replied quietly. She was sitting at the head of the bed, up against the pillows with her legs crossed, her eyes trained on her lap. “It’s just--” She paused, afraid of sounding _too_ needy. “Well, we’ve seen each other nearly every day since we were ten. It’ll be weird, going without you.”

Fitz huffed a soft laugh. “I know it will,” he said, echoing her. Then he reached out to bump his fist against her knee. “You know I don’t _want_ to leave you, right?” When she looked up at him, he gave her a small smile and added, “I could go to Cambridge with you, but it wouldn’t be the right school for me. I want to take the best opportunity I can get, and with the scholarships I’ve been offered, there’s no way I can turn them down.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Jemma rushed to say, briefly laying a hand over his knee. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to stay here with me.” Even if a part of her, the part that was insecure and didn’t make true friends easily, really wanted to. “Not at the cost of your education. I… I suppose I’m just worried.”

Fitz tilted his head at her. “About what?”

Jemma sighed, tangling her fingers together in her lap. “That if you do go off to America, all that distance… well.” Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “You’ll be in an exciting new city, surrounded by all these new, like-minded people and so busy with your coursework, you won’t have time for little old me.” There. Perhaps if she couched it in terms of him being caught up in a new environment instead of how much she would miss him, maybe he wouldn’t think she was being too much of a girl about it.

Fitz’s expression screwed up, like she had just said something singularly distasteful. “Well, that’s a load of rubbish,” he said, scratching at his chin. “I mean, sure, the time difference might be a beast to adjust to, but I’ll _always_ have time for you.” And he said it with such earnestness, with such a complete lack of guile, that Jemma felt the knot of worry that had built up in her chest loosen just a little bit.

“Yeah?” she asked, a genuine smile coming over her face.

He nodded, looking totally sure of himself, and smiled back. “Yeah, ‘course. You’re my best friend. What would I do without you?”

“Rot, probably,” Jemma teased, referring to Fitz’s habit of never picking up his dirty clothes. That got a laugh out of him, and he half-heartedly shoved at her knee in protest. She slapped his hand away with ease, her heart feeling even lighter still to hear him sound so relaxed about things.

“Here,” he said, once his laughter had subsided, and held a fist up, his little finger crooked out. “I’ll even pinky swear on it.”

Jemma’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, a _pinky swear_. Now I know you mean it.”

Fitz just rolled his eyes and waved his hand at her. Grinning, she reached out and hooked her finger around his. Together, they shook their hands once.

“There,” Fitz said with authority. “Now it’s done. You won’t have to worry about me disappearing on you or you disappearing on me--” Jemma scoffed, as if she would ever. “Because we won’t let it happen.”

“Right,” Jemma agreed. “Because we won’t let it.”

And when Fitz looked at her like that, with such surety and conviction in his eyes, who was she to doubt him?

-:-    

Their first semester apart was more difficult than even Jemma had anticipated. Going from seeing Fitz nearly every day to not having him around at all was hard, and left her feeling bereft, like a piece of herself was missing. Fitz was true to his word, though, and video called her whenever their schedules and the time difference permitted, but it wasn’t as often as she would have liked. He made up for it by texting even more than he had when they were both still in Sheffield, and it wasn’t unusual for Jemma to wake up in the morning to find several messages from him that he’d sent late at night in his own time zone.

But Fitz seemed to be flourishing, just like Jemma had predicted. While he complained about how boring and easy his general ed classes were, he was excited about the introductory engineering courses he’d signed up for and the professors who taught them, and went on at length about how refreshing it was to be in a department filled with people whose minds operated on a similar level to his own, even if he still felt like he outclassed them all. While Jemma felt the same--she loved Cambridge, and she was making friends--she still missed having Fitz physically there to talk to and joke and dream with, and she envied the apparent ease with which he was adjusting.

Their first Christmas holiday back home, Jemma went with Fitz’s mum to the train station to pick Fitz up. Her school term had ended before his, and she’d spent days at home bored without him or her friends in Cambridge, spinning her mental wheels without any viable distraction. Now she was standing on the train platform practically bouncing on her feet in anticipation of the first time seeing Fitz in a few months. She knew he would be tired from a long flight followed by a train ride, but she was simply too excited to see him.

Mrs. Fitz was watching her with a small smile on her face. “Have some patience, love,” she said kindly. “The train will get here when it does, and not a minute sooner, I’d bet.”

Jemma worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Oh, I know, it’s just--he’s almost here. It feels like it’s been ages.” She knew she didn’t have to dial back her enthusiasm for Fitz’s mum; after all, she’d spent the better part of eight years doing everything with her son. She knew how close they were.

Finally, they saw the train come around the bend in the tracks outside the station, and Jemma’s heart leapt into her throat, a sudden irrational fear seizing her. What if Fitz had changed? What if he wasn’t as happy to see her as she was him? What if he _looked_ different?

(That was silly and she knew it. She saw him in video calls at least once a week, and he’d texted her before he’d left for the airport, saying he was looking forward to seeing her. Still, the fear was there.)

The train groaned to a halt next to the platform, and the doors opened and passengers began to stream out. Jemma went up on her toes, craning her neck to try and find any sign of Fitz. At last she spotted him, toward the back of the crowd exiting the train, looking tired and rumpled as he pulled his suitcase behind him. Then his eyes met hers, and his entire face lit up.

Jemma immediately forgot all of her worries and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck in a joyful hug as soon as he was within reaching distance. Fitz let go of his suitcase to catch her, stumbling back a step from the force of her embrace.

“Oof, Christ, you’re a menace!” he laughed, even as his arms came around her to hold her in return. “You almost knocked me over.”

“Shut up,” Jemma mumbled, burying her face in his shoulder. She stayed there for a moment, just breathing in the essence and the solidity of him, before letting go to step back and grin at him. He looked just as he did when he’d left for Boston four months previously; he was still the same Fitz she knew. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Fitz’s smile was brilliant to match hers. “I’m glad to _be_ back. Now I can have proper tea and biscuits. And my mum’s cooking. The food at school is fine, but it’s just not the same.” With that, his eyes slid past her to his mother, who was standing behind them and watching their reunion with a smile, and his expression softened. He took the handle of his suitcase again and walked the few steps over to her, reaching out with his free arm for another hug. “ _Mum._ Hi.”

Mrs. Fitz accepted her son’s hug with a warm smile and just as tight of an embrace. “It’s good to have you home. I swear you’ve grown while you were gone.”

“Oh, Mum, I have not,” Fitz muttered, his cheeks turning pink, but Jemma thought that maybe she was right; he did look just a bit taller. Exhaling, he let go of his mother and looked around. “Are we ready to go?” he asked. “I’m bloody starving and I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

Jemma laughed. “Oh no,” she said, as they all turned and started to head for the platform exit. “You can’t sleep for a week. I’ve been here for days bored by myself, I need some company. We have too much to do.”

Fitz shook his head. “Figures you’d have an itinerary all planned out for our _holiday_ , which is supposed to be about _relaxing_ ,” he said.

She took his teasing in stride. “You know I like to be prepared,” she shot back. “Besides, it’ll be fun. I promise. And I built in plenty of lazy time, just for you.”

“ _Excellent._ ” Fitz pumped a fist. “I take back my judgment. You’d never steer me wrong, I know that.”

Jemma did know that, and she made good on her word. She and Fitz spent their entire holiday together, just as inseparable as they’d always been. They went to the Christmas market on Town Hall Square and had their traditional sausages and hot cocoa. They stayed up late watching old movies on the telly and talking more about the different courses they were taking at school. Fitz told her about his ventures out into Boston to see the city and experience life in America, and Jemma told Fitz about all the beautiful old buildings and libraries at Cambridge, in contrast to the shining labs she would be working in for her upper level courses. Fitz and his mother came over for Christmas dinner and they laughed at the paper crowns they pulled from their crackers. It was as if they’d never been apart.

For Jemma, it meant her heart was full. Her worries that the distance of attending separate schools in different countries seemed to be in vain. Fitz was the same stalwart best friend he’d always been, and she felt silly that she’d ever doubted him, herself, and them together. They were made of sterner stuff than that, she knew. She’d always wanted to believe that nothing could change the deep bonds of friendship that ran between her and Fitz, but now she had proof. Distance couldn’t hurt them. She didn’t have to worry about drifting apart, because she and Fitz were always meant to be friends.

-:-

One year later, Christmas was a little different.

Jemma had a boyfriend. She’d met Milton in one of her chemistry lectures and they’d hit it off rather nicely. When he asked her out to dinner, she’d accepted, and one date had turned into two, then three, and suddenly she’d found herself with a steady significant other. It was a first for her; she hadn’t dated all that much in secondary, mostly because all of the boys were intimidated by the fact that she was so close to Fitz. They’d viewed him as competition. But Milton didn’t seem to mind that she had a guy for a best friend--in fact, he even went as far as saying he hoped they could meet someday.

“He’s like your brother, yeah?” he’d said. “Or your cousin.”

Jemma had wrinkled her nose. That wasn’t it, not at all, but she didn’t know how to put it into words. Fitz was just… _Fitz._ Her other half. The yin to her yang. The Watson to her Holmes. He defied conventional labels.

She’d initially hesitated over telling Fitz about Milton, because he was a guy and she didn’t think he’d be interested in that type of news--talking about boyfriends with him just felt a little _weird_ , and Fitz had always treated her dates in school with an air of disinterested boredom. But he was her best friend, and since Milton was a part of her life now, she didn’t want to feel like she was hiding things from him.

So she’d texted him about the change in her romantic life. It was hard to judge reactions through simple text messages, but she had the feeling Fitz was just as bored by the news as he had been by the other boys she’d gone out with. That didn’t stop her from sending the occasional update, though, whenever Fitz asked her how her day or weekend had gone--if she and Milton had gone out, she’d tell him so. Fitz always came back with generic replies, just enough to keep the conversation moving on to another topic. Jemma couldn’t tell how he really felt about it.

“I could have gone to London,” she said on Christmas Eve. They were sitting in front of the fireplace in her parents’ sitting room and Fitz was stuffing his face with some mince pies her mother had made. Jemma watched him pick up another from the plate he had in his lap. “Milton invited me to spend Christmas with his family, but I turned him down. I wanted to come back home and see you.”

Fitz paused, his eyebrows going up. “He was fine with that?” he asked around a mouthful of pie.

Jemma frowned at him, both for speaking with his mouth full and for the implication that he was buying into patriarchal norms of ownership. “Of course he was,” she said. “I get to see him every day in Cambridge, but I don’t get to see you hardly ever at all anymore. He understands that. He knows you’re my best friend and how important you are to me.”

“Doesn’t sound like any bloke I’ve ever known,” Fitz replied, shaking his head while swallowing his bite of pie. “All the ones here, you know, if their girlfriend ditched them to go spend time with another man, that would probably be grounds for a split.”

“I didn’t _ditch_ him,” Jemma shot back testily. “I chose to stay home with my family. And you. Besides, most boys are idiots.” Then she softened. “Except for you, of course.” When Fitz beamed at her, she added, “Milton is really very agreeable. He doesn’t try to control me like the other boys I’ve gone out have.”

“Mmmhmm,” Fitz said, setting his empty plate on the low table in front of them. Leaning back against the sofa cushion, he grinned at her. “Alright then, let’s see this Milton. You’ve got to have photos, yeah? We’ll see if he passes muster.”

Jemma tutted. “He doesn’t have to pass muster,” she muttered, but she was smiling as she took her phone out of her jeans pocket. It only took her a moment to find a suitable photo to show him--one of her with Milton at the Botanic Garden in Cambridge, his arm around her shoulders, both of them smiling. She passed the phone over to Fitz.

He took it from her and studied the photo for a moment with a passive face. “He has a big cabbage head,” he solemnly announced.

“Fitz!” Jemma cried, scandalized, and smacked his arm. “He does not!”

That made Fitz crack a grin, and he shook his head, laughing as he handed her phone back. “No, he really does,” he insisted. “Giant cabbage head.”

Jemma looked down at the photo, scrutinizing it. It was true that Milton’s head was likely a little larger in circumference than the average male, and the way he styled his fair hair was somewhat reminiscent of overlaying cabbage leafs, but she still felt Fitz was being a little mean in his assessment.

“Well… maybe,” she said at length.

Fitz bumped her knee with his fist, grinning widely. “So you admit he’s got a cabbage head!”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “I concede that there is a faint resemblance,” she replied. “But that’s it.”

He shrugged, clearly feeling that he had the upper hand in the argument, and crossed his arms. “So why are you dating him if he’s a cabbage?”

Jemma squawked in mild offense. “Because, unlike _some_ people, I don’t base my attraction solely on my partner’s looks!” she said, feeling a little defensive of her boyfriend. Fitz held up his hands in surrender. “I’m dating him because he’s nice,” she continued. “And we’ve got a lot of common interests, so it feels like a good match. And _he’s_ interested in _me_ , which has never really happened before.”

Fitz frowned. “Hey, that’s not true. You had those dates in secondary.”

Jemma shook her head. “Those were different. You know how I was, I was always kind of the odd duck. But Milton is truly interested in _me_.”

She thought it was a little strange when Fitz ducked his head then, picking at the hem of his jumper instead of looking directly at her. “I don’t know,” he said. “You’re such a good person, I thought guys would be lining up.”

That made a warmth blossom in her chest, Fitz’s view of her making her heart melt just a little bit. “It’s not like that at all,” she explained, smiling. “It’s really just the same as it’s always been.” When he didn’t immediately reply, just nodded without looking at her, she decided to turn the question on him. “What about you?” she asked. “Are there any girls trying to win you over? You know you can talk to me about that kind of thing, too.”

Fitz snorted inelegantly, finally looking up at her with a wry twist to his mouth. “Christ, no,” he laughed, somewhat bitterly. “I can’t talk to girls at all, I’m hopeless at it. You know that.”

Jemma pursed her lips. It was true that Fitz had never gone on a date, but she didn’t think it was through any fault on his part. He was just shy around people he didn’t know and extremely picky about his friends. “You can talk to me just fine,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re different,” he replied, waving a hand, and suddenly the soft happiness in her chest was extinguished. For some reason she couldn’t identify, his careless dismissal of her hurt in a small way. She thought that maybe she wanted to be seen by him as a normal, everyday girl, but that didn’t quite feel right either. Whatever it was, the fact that he’d othered her left a faint sour taste in her mouth that lingered long after they’d moved on to other topics of conversation.

-:-    

The summer after their second year of university, Fitz accepted an internship with a high-tech engineering firm in Boston. It was an amazing opportunity for him, giving him valuable hands-on experience in his chosen field and creating connections that could get him work once he finished school, but it also meant that he couldn’t come home over the holiday.

Jemma was heartbroken. She looked forward to their school breaks and the days she got to spend with Fitz so much because they were a rare commodity now, and knowing she would have to wait until Christmas to see him again, a full _year_ since the last time she saw him, put a dark cloud over her head. Fitz had been very contrite when he’d told her, and she hated that he felt that way, as if he felt obligated to her and their relationship was holding him back. But he explained that he’d been looking forward to spending the summer with her, too. The internship just happened to be too good of an opportunity to pass up.

She spent a couple of weeks brooding over how her summer holiday was going to be mind-numbingly boring without him--she’d broken up with Milton halfway through Easter term, feeling that things just weren’t working out, so she no longer had a reason to go visit him in London--until she struck upon a solution. _She_ could go see Fitz in Boston. And once she found a good sale on flights across the Atlantic, it felt like it was meant to be.

Fitz wasn’t so sure, though. He didn’t want her to spend all that money just for him. But Jemma assured him that she could afford it, and when pressed, he admitted that he missed her and wanted to see her, too. And that was how she ended up on a long flight from London to Boston, looking forward to a week in America spent with Fitz.

She had just approached the baggage claim area, tired and stiff from her flight, when she heard her name being called.

“Jemma!” She looked over and saw Fitz standing by a row of benches, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his face bright. Just the sight of him, so eager and clearly thrilled to see her, made Jemma forget about how exhausted she was. She changed course to go directly to him, and much like she had that first Christmas, Fitz pulled her into a tight hug the second she was within reaching distance.

“Welcome to Boston!” he said into her hair, squeezing his arms around her. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Jemma just smiled, leaning her cheek against his. They’d never been especially tactile growing up, always feeling a certain sort of awkwardness over hugging or touching despite otherwise having an alarming lack of personal space, but ever since they’d both left for university, hugging had become a thing. She’d given him a hug on impulse before he’d left for Boston that first summer, afraid their friendship would change and desperate to keep him, and he’d seemed surprised but happy to return it. Now they always hugged upon reuniting and before parting again, long embraces that said everything they didn’t have the courage to speak out loud.

“I can’t believe I’m actually here, either,” Jemma replied, letting go of him and taking a step back, smiling. “My first trip to America.”

Fitz smiled back at her, an expression that made her heart lift. “We’ll have to make it a good one for you. Come on, let’s go grab your suitcase.”

It didn’t take them long to pick up her luggage from the carousel, and then they picked up a cab to take to Fitz’s dorm on the MIT campus. He had a single room to himself, so there was no roommate to navigate around, something which Jemma was grateful for. She looked out the window at the view of the city over the Charles River while Fitz got her suitcase tucked away behind her, prattling on about all the things they could do while she was there.

“I know you’re probably wrecked,” he said, coming up to join her at the window, “but are you hungry? It’s close to dinner and I could murder some food myself.”

Jemma smiled at him. “I’m starving,” she replied. “They fed us on the plane, but that was hours ago. Come on, take me somewhere nice--I’m sure you know of lots of good places to eat around here.”

They chose to walk, as Fitz said their destination wasn’t far and it was a nice evening out. They had to walk across campus to get there, and he pointed out each building as they went past, noting the ones he spent most of his time in, where his lectures were and where the labs were housed. Jemma was glad for it, this peek into his daily life; she liked being able to have visuals and a concrete location for the places he talked about so much in their texts and video calls.

The restaurant he took her to was a locally-owned pizzeria just off campus. They decided to split a medium pie--meat lovers for Fitz, spinach and mushroom for Jemma. She laughed when he was able to pack away his entire half of the pizza without a problem, even going after a slice of hers. Fitz’s appetite was legendary and it seemed that wasn’t changing. He informed her, only somewhat sheepishly, that he still had a little bit of growing left to do and needed all the fuel he could get.

It was only when they got back to his room and decided to settle down for the night that a slight problem arose.

Fitz had purchased a small air mattress to use while she was visiting and insisted that he be the one to sleep on it, while she took his bed.

“But it’s _your_ bed, FItz!” Jemma cried. “I can’t just kick you out of it. I promise, I’ll be fine on the floor.”

“No, but--” Fitz stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose, then gestured to the mattress, lying fully inflated at his feet. “You’re my guest, it’s only polite that you have the real bed and I take the air mattress.”

Jemma sighed and shook her head. “But I’m not someone you have to impress, Fitz, I’m _me_. I’m perfectly fine with the mattress.”

Fitz huffed and made an aggrieved noise. “Jemma, can you just let me--look--I’m, I’m trying to be a _gentleman_. Take the bed, please?”

There were several things she wanted to say in regards to antiquated gender roles, but Fitz looked so desperate to please that it took the wind out of her sails. Jemma’s expression softened.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll take the bed.” Fitz’s shoulders slumped in relief. “But only because you asked nicely, and not because you’ve gotten it into your head that you have to be chivalrous with me.”

Fitz made a face at her, but refrained from any further comment.

After they had each taken turns in the ensuite bathroom changing into their pajamas and brushing their teeth, Jemma said goodnight to Fitz and crawled into his bed. She was immediately assaulted by the scent of _him_ , his pillow and sheets soaked in the smell; it made her realize that the scent she’d always associated with him was probably a combination of the washing detergent he used and his deodorant. It was comforting, something that always put her at peace when they hugged and reminded her that she was back with her favorite person. Being surrounded by it now like this was almost overwhelming, and tugged at her heart in a way she couldn’t quite identify. All she knew was that it made her feel like she was home, and she drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

-:-

Unfortunately, Fitz couldn’t take time off from his internship every day to spend with her while she was in Boston, so Jemma used that time to explore the city on her own. She did walking tours of the older parts of the city that she knew Fitz would find boring, reading up on the history of Boston and its place in American culture. She’d find a nice café or park to spend a few hours in, drinking tea and reading a book she’d brought with her, simply soaking up the atmosphere and ambience of being in a new city. Fitz was always apologetic when they met back up in the evening, but she reassured him that she truly didn’t mind the time to herself.

They days they spent together, however, were magic. One day, he took her to the Franklin Park Zoo, where they spent the afternoon looking at all of the animals and discussing their various habitats and care programs. Another day, they went to the New England Aquarium and spent hours oohing and aahing over the different tanks filled with multitudes of colorful fish and other aquatic animals. He even took her to Harvard’s campus to see the natural history museum there, letting her delight in the insect collections and glass flowers, and teased her about how her life might be if she’d chosen to attend that school instead of Cambridge.

“We could have made dates to hang out at this diner I go to off-campus a lot,” he said as they walked past the Department of Chemistry and Chemical Biology’s building, which was right next door to the museum. Jemma gazed up at the edifice as something happy curled in her chest at his use of the word _dates_. “We could have done our studying together there and complained about our professors and had as many chips and milkshakes as we wanted.”

“That does sound nice,” Jemma agreed, letting her mind indulge in the fantasy just a bit: coming to America with Fitz and getting to know their new city together, even if they were on separate campuses. They would have had each other to lean on. She looked over as him as they came to a crosswalk and smiled. “But I like this, too. Getting to spend the week with you, all to myself.”  
  
Fitz smiled back and reached up to lightly cuff her shoulder.  “Yeah, I like it too,” he said. “Extended slumber party with my best mate, or something like that.”

Something about the way his eyes sparkled at her as he spoke, soft and affectionate, made tiny little butterflies flutter in her chest. That had been happening an awful lot that week, that particular feeling; at first Jemma had attributed it to just being so happy to see him, and in being in such close quarters with him and only him for an entire week. But it had persisted. She’d catch Fitz watching her sometimes, instead of the exhibits they were supposed to be looking at, or other times his smiles and his eyes on her would linger longer than they had in the past. She liked it, though. It made her feel like she had his full attention and that, possibly, they were growing even closer despite the physical distance between them. She found that she liked watching him, too, when he wasn’t looking: observing all the ways he was growing and maturing and the ways in which he was still the same Fitz she’d always known.

When it was finally time for her to leave and fly back home to England, Fitz rode with her to the airport to see her off. They stopped outside the security check area, and Jemma turned to Fitz with a sigh.

“Thank you for letting me visit,” she said sincerely. “I had a wonderful time.”

Fitz smiled and shrugged lightly. “I’m glad you came,” he replied. “Really. It was a lot better than waiting until Christmas to see you again.”

“Definitely,” Jemma agreed. “See, I told you it was a good idea.”

He cracked a grin, his expression fond, and reached out to pull her into a hug. She sighed as she wrapped her arms tightly around his middle, getting her last fill of him for the next few months. The way he pulled her just a little bit closer made the butterflies flap in her chest again, and she smiled into his shoulder.

“Make sure everything stays sane in England until I can come back,” he said, his usual refrain for her, and squeezed his hand over her shoulder.

Jemma’s smile widened where he couldn’t see. “Of course. Always. Until the day you decide America’s right for you and you never come back.”

Fitz scoffed as he pulled away from her, shaking his head. “Why would I do that when England has _you_?”

It felt like her heart grew three entire sizes in her chest.

-:-

Something was different about Fitz.

It was almost Christmas and they were in her parents’ kitchen, baking a batch of ginger snaps and arguing over what holiday movie they were going to watch on the telly later, but Jemma couldn’t stop sneaking little looks at him whenever she could. She wasn’t sure if it was his face; he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and there was a fine dusting of stubble over his cheeks and jaw that made him look rather attractive. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. And she didn’t think it was the fact that he looked like he’d finally grown another inch or two, or that he’d filled out around the shoulders a little bit. It wasn’t that he seemed to be carrying himself a little differently, with a touch more confidence than she was used to seeing.

But maybe it was all of those things put together. Whatever it was, it had cast Fitz in a new light and Jemma was suddenly thinking and feeling things about him that she never had before. She didn’t know what to do about it at all. Fitz had caught her staring a few times over the course of the holiday, and she’d always quickly looked away, blushing and feeling flustered. What was happening? Fitz was her best friend. She’d gone ten years without feeling the need to explore further. She wasn’t _supposed_ to find him attractive, or want to sit closer to him on the sofa, or wonder what her hand would feel like in his.

But she did.

“Right, time for the butter,” Fitz said, staring intently down at both the mixing bowl and the recipe book laid out in front of him. “It’s softened already, yeah?”

“Yes,” Jemma replied, and picked up the stick of butter she’d already sliced down to size in its foil wrapper. She brought it over to where Fitz was standing at the counter to hand it to him, and when he reached for it, their fingers brushed. Jemma’s breath caught in her throat; she swore she’d felt a spark jump between them, but when her eyes darted up to him, Fitz was already unwrapping the butter and dumping it into the mixing bowl as if nothing had happened.

She wanted to stamp her foot. Couldn’t he tell that something was different? That things were changing between them, somehow, in ways she could barely begin to admit to herself that she wanted? Jemma thought back to when she had visited him in Boston over the summer and how Fitz had smiled at her more than he usually did, how his eyes had lingered on her when he thought she couldn’t see, how she’d felt like they were growing even closer. He hadn’t stopped. He was still smiling at her just as much as he ever had with that warmth in his eyes, and she’d felt his gaze on her more than once. Maybe, just maybe, he felt it too.

Late on Christmas Eve, they were sitting on the bench out in the conservatory, enjoying the view of the night sky through the ceiling and talking about everything and nothing, as was their custom. Long-finished mugs of hot cocoa sat on the windowsill behind them, and their feet were propped up on a low table in front of them. Jemma had complained about the air being a little chilly, and Fitz, in a rare and shocking (and thrilling) display of intimacy, had offered to let her curl up against him for warmth. She had leapt at the chance to be closer to him, not even considering turning him down for a moment. So there she was, leaning her head on Fitz’s shoulder while his arm draped loosely over hers, quietly talking about whatever happened to be on their minds.

Jemma was hyper-aware of every bit of her that fit up against him, his body radiating heat like a furnace, but she tried not to let it overwhelm her. She didn’t want to give away that she was so affected by him, not until she had a better idea of how he felt about her.

“Where do you see yourself going in the future?” she asked after a while, once their conservation had meandered past holiday shopping and scientific articles recently read and watching the latest episodes of The Great British Bake Off.

Fitz shrugged lightly, not enough to dislodge her head from his shoulder, and hummed softly. “Dunno, really,” he said. “Haven’t given it too much thought yet. Mostly because I want to go on and get my Master’s after I get my undergrad degree. But whatever I do… I think I’d like to work building things that help people.”

Jemma smiled to herself, tangling her fingers together in her lap. That sounded like a very Fitz thing to do. He’d always had a good heart; it stood to reason that he’d want to spend his life helping others.

“I think I’d like to go into research,” she replied. “Maybe at a lab somewhere. Stay on the cutting edge of developing new cures for diseases and other methods of treatment.”

Fitz shifted slightly, uncrossing and recrossing his ankles on the table in front of them. “I think you’d be good at that.”

Jemma’s smile widened. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” He was silent for a moment, then added, “You know, there’s a chance I might be offered a job at a lab or engineering firm in America once I graduate. That internship I had gave me some really good connections in the field. They said I was welcome to call them once I was done with school.”

That made the smile fall from her face. Just as she’d told him once before, Jemma wouldn’t dream of telling Fitz how to live his life, or beg him to stay in England with her. But the thought of him staying permanently in America, thousands of miles away from her, saddened her more than she could express. He’d promised they wouldn’t grow apart, but they’d have to eventually if he stayed there, wouldn’t they? They’d go on to live their own lives with other people, and fade away from each other.

No, she couldn’t ask him to stay. But her fear of losing him was making her heart race, pushing her to be honest about one thing, at least.

“I… I always imagined myself growing old in Perthshire,” she said haltingly, after a short silence.

If Fitz was thrown by her apparent non sequitur, he didn’t show it. Instead, he replied, “That’s in Scotland.”

Jemma breathed a tiny, nervous laugh. “Yes. I know where it is.” She tangled her fingers tighter together. “We went there on holiday once, before you moved here. It was really lovely. Ever since, I’ve always pictured myself ending up in a little cottage there one day. Maybe after I retire, maybe sooner.” She inhaled slowly. “I’ve always seen you there with me, too.”

Fitz didn’t move, but it still felt like his arm around her shoulders pulled her infinitesimally closer, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Yeah?”

Jemma nodded against his shoulder. “Soon after we became friends,” she said, just as quiet. “I started imagining you with me in that cottage. I just assumed that we would always be together, no matter what.” There was a tightness building in her chest, but she pressed on, feeling that if she didn’t speak what was on her heart now, she might never try again. “I never stopped to consider that one of us might fall in love one day and want to get married, or move away, or… or go to school in America and want to stay there. I still thought we’d be together, you and I, despite any of that.” She breathed out a laugh, but it was resigned and sad, sure she was making a fool of herself. “Isn’t that silly?”

“No,” said Fitz, even quieter. “I--I’ve always imagined you with me, too.”

Jemma forgot to breathe for a moment, her heart leaping into her throat. Hearing that he’d indulged in the same little fantasy that she had was too much to process. She lifted her head to look up at him, and found that he was already looking down at her. Their eyes met, and the pure emotion burning in his made her world tilt on its axis. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth, and before she could even think to react or say anything, Fitz leaned in.

Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed over hers in a feather-light kiss. A hot shock ran down her spine, but then Fitz pulled back slightly, just a hair’s breadth away, as if he were waiting for her to make a decision: if his kiss had been wanted, if she wanted more. It only took her a second to press back into him, kissing him more fully. Fitz’s arm tightened around her shoulders while his free hand came up to palm her jaw, and Jemma lost herself in the careful, searching slide of their lips together.

She couldn’t believe it. She was kissing her best friend. Her _best friend_. And nothing else in the world had ever felt so right or perfect. Why had they never done this before? If she’d known that kissing Fitz would feel like waking up after lifetimes asleep, Jemma would have done it a long time ago.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were more than a little breathless. Jemma met Fitz’s eyes again before looking down, blushing, and curled her fingers into the front of his jumper. “I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” she confessed quietly. Fitz laughed shortly, joy evident in every bit of him, and she added, “Since I came to see you in Boston, if I’m being honest.”

Fitz was grinning widely. “Really?”

Jemma peeked up at him, and seeing him smile only made her do the same. His happiness was infectious. “Really,” she affirmed. “And something about the way you look--” She reached up to trace her thumb along his jaw, the pad catching on his stubble. “This is really attractive.”

He laughed again and lifted his chin, pulling his face away from her touch. “Right, right. Good to know you find my complete inability to grow a beard attractive.”

“That’s not _just_ it!” she cried, swatting his chest. “I also like you because you’re my best friend.”

Fitz smiled again. “Just my best friend?” he asked. It was clear he was trying to tease her, but the slight hitch in his voice gave away how nervous he was. “Or… are we more than that, now?”

Jemma felt lightheaded with possibility, happy and weightless with the idea that they could be even more than they already were, that their relationship could go deeper, grow stronger. “I would hope so,” she said, trying and failing not to sound too eager. “I want to be, I think.”

“You think?” Fitz arched an eyebrow at her, still teasing.

She shook her head. “I know.”

The happiness that overcame Fitz’s expression was palpable, transforming his entire face, and as he pulled her forward to kiss her again, Jemma thought that no Christmas gift she could receive would ever match what she’d just been given.

-:-

Jemma had to leave to go back to school first, so Fitz came with her mum to the train station to see her off. They stuck close together on the platform, hands brushing together but not quite fully touching, not holding. They’d come to a quick, mutual decision on Christmas Eve, without much discussion at all, that they weren’t going to tell their parents that they were _together_. It didn’t seem like something that required a lot of fanfare, and they (Fitz especially) didn’t want their families to make a fuss over them. Besides, they were still exploring and figuring out what it meant to be together romantically. They didn’t need their parents butting in.

Hearing a far-off screech on the tracks, Jemma looked and saw the train approaching around the bend outside the station. She sighed and turned to her mother, putting on a smile.

“Bye, Mum,” she said, reaching out for a hug. “I’ll text you after I get settled in.”

“Please do,” her mother said, squeezing her tight. “I know you’ll do fine this term, just like you always do.”

Jemma smiled again. “Thanks.” She let go and turned to Fitz, and found him already looking at her with a wealth of emotions and unsaid words in his eyes. She went back to him and immediately wrapped her arms around his middle, burying her face in his shoulder. His arms went tightly around her in turn, and it felt like he was trying to physically keep her with him.

“I’ll miss you,” he whispered against her ear. His voice sounded rough, and it perfectly encapsulated everything she felt--that being separated would be harder this time, that his absence would be more acute, that she would miss him more than ever, now that she knew what it felt like to _want_ him.

“I’ll miss you, too,” she whispered back, giving him an extra squeeze. Fitz held her for a long moment. It was only when she heard the train groan and hiss to a stop behind them that he finally let go. Then he glanced around quickly before tucking a finger beneath her chin and leaning down to kiss her.

Jemma was surprised, but delighted. She heard her mother squawk in shock as she leaned into the kiss for as long as she dared before she had to pull away. Fitz’s gaze on her as she stepped back was warm and fervent, and she gave him a tremulous smile as she took up the handle of her suitcase. “Goodbye,” she said, and turned to look at her mother, who was looking between the two of them with barely-disguised glee. “Bye, Mum.”

As she turned to walk for the open door of the train, she heard her mother cry, “Fitz! What was that?!” and Fitz mumble something in reply that she couldn’t catch. After following the last of the people boarding onto the train, she pushed her suitcase ahead of her and turned around for a final look. Her mum was beaming, and Fitz had shoved his hands in his coat pockets. He took one out to wave at her, and Jemma smiled as she waved back. She knew her mother was going to pepper him with all sorts of questions on the drive to his house, but apparently he’d decided it was worth it for one last kiss before they were separated again for months.

-:-

She had known being without Fitz would be more difficult now that they were officially in a long-distance relationship, but Jemma wasn’t prepared for the longing. Now that she’d openly acknowledged that she wanted to be with him, every single moment, it was like his absence was sharper. They’d had two weeks together to learn each other before they’d had to leave for school again, and now she knew the feeling of his arms around her, her hand in his, his lips on her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. She missed all of it.

She found herself daydreaming about him at odd moments here and there throughout her day: in lecture, waiting for experiment results in the lab, eating dinner, studying in her room late at night. She would think about the nuances of the way he held her while sitting on the sofa or the bed, or all the different emotions his kisses could produce. It felt unfair that they’d had such a short time together, and Jemma felt envious of all the couples she saw on campus, the ones who had their loved ones within easy reach. Seeing them walk around holding hands or bussing kisses on noses or cheeks just made her miss Fitz more acutely.

One day in early spring, Fitz texted her that he was sick with a nasty head cold, running a fever and feeling miserable. He didn’t fall ill very often, but when he did, he was usually laid out for a day or two. Jemma video called him when she was done with her homework for the night, finding him in his room in the mid-afternoon.

“It’s good to see your face,” he said, smiling weakly. He’d obviously put his laptop on his desk chair and then pulled it close to the side of the bed so he could see her. Now he was snuggling back beneath his blankets, looking tired and pale. Jemma’s heart went out to him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Fitz made a face and grumbled indistinctly. “Like I’ll never be able to breathe correctly again.” He sniffled. “And I’m freezing.”

“That’s just the fever,” she said, looking at how he was bundled up in his bed. “Did you take some aspirin like I suggested?”

“There was some Tylenol in my first aid kit. I took two. How long does it take to kick in?”

Jemma smiled. “You’re fighting a viral infection. It’ll take some time, and you might have to sleep your fever off.”

Fitz grumbled again and pulled the blankets up to his chin. “Wish it would hurry up. I’m tired of feeling like I’m freezing my arse off but burning up from the inside out at the same time.”

He looked pitiful, and Jemma wished she was there to take care of him. “Have you had anything to eat today?” she asked, unable to keep herself from continuing to fuss over him a bit.

He nodded even as a small yawn split his face. “I had some tea and a muffin this morning, but I feel like such rubbish that I haven’t gone out to get anything else.”

Jemma clucked softly. “Try and eat something this evening, even if you feel terrible. Going out might feel like an impossible feat, but you’ll feel better once you get some food in you.” She sighed. “I wish I were there. I’d bring you some chicken soup.”

Fitz had closed his eyes, but at that he smiled. “I wish you were here, too,” he murmured. “You’d bring the best chicken soup, because that’s just how you are.” He snuggled down into his pillow. “I love you.”

Jemma’s breath caught in her throat. On her laptop screen, Fitz was laid on his side in bed peacefully, unconcerned--he appeared to not have realized what he’d said. But he’d never told her he loved her before, and now her stomach was doing little flips. She could just write it off as something said in the delirium of fever, but she knew that Fitz would never say something like that unless he truly meant it.

But did she love him? Of course she did, she immediately told herself. Fitz was her favorite person in the world and she never wanted to be without him. She’d loved him intensely as a friend for years. It didn’t take a genius intellect to realize that her love had changed and grown deeper. She took a deep breath. “I love you, too, Fitz,” she said softly.

Onscreen, Fitz’s smile widened slightly, but he didn’t open his eyes. She realized that he was so worn out from fighting the virus that he was on the edge of sleep again, and her heart melted.

“Get some rest,” she said. “And think about trying to get something to eat tonight.”

Fitz nodded, eyes still closed, and shifted beneath the blankets a bit.

“I’ll check on you in the morning,” she added.

“Right,” Fitz mumbled. “Love you.”

Jemma’s heart soared, even as it twisted in sympathy for him. “Love you, too,” she repeated. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, Jemma.”

-:-        

The last few weeks of Easter term was agony, knowing that Fitz was already home for the summer while she was stuck a mere train ride away in Cambridge, finishing out her year. When the last day of classes finally came and she was done with her exams, Jemma hopped on the first train she could to go back to Sheffield. As soon as she was home, she dumped her suitcase in her room without bothering to unpack and went straight to Fitz’s.

The front door swung open right after she rang the buzzer--she’d texted ahead to tell him she was coming--and Fitz reached out to pull her inside.

The second he had the door closed, he pushed her up against it and crushed his mouth to hers, nearly knocking the wind from her. For a brief moment all Jemma could do was cling to him in stunned shock; then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back just as fervently, the relief of being reunited with him leaving her legitimately weak in the knees.

She lost track of time as they stood there, his body pressed against hers and his mouth hot and insistent. When Fitz finally broke away to trail his lips down her neck, Jemma tipped her head back against the door and tried to catch her breath.

“This is, ah,” she panted as he sucked at her pulse point, “quite the hello. Are you--are you going to let me make it past the front door?”

Fitz looked up and leaned his forehead on hers. “Well, of course I’m going to snog you like crazy,” he said, his voice hoarse. “My smashingly gorgeous girlfriend who I haven’t seen in months? _Hell_ yes.” He kissed her again, his hands tight on her hips. “But yeah, we can get you past the front door.” He let her go to take her hand and tug her deeper into the house. “I’m home, you’re home, all is right with the world. I’m not leaving your side for the next two and a half months.”

Jemma laughed in delight. It wasn’t a promise he could keep and they both knew it, but there was no harm in indulging the fantasy for the moment. Then her heart skipped as, instead of leading her into the sitting room like she’d expected, Fitz changed course and took them down the hall, toward his bedroom.

Then she smiled, biting her lip as he pulled her a little faster after him. If this was how Fitz wanted to kick off their summer holiday together, she was absolutely not going to stop him.

-:-

Christmas Eve found Fitz and Jemma once again sitting in the conservatory at the Simmons’, just as they had done one year previously. Fitz’s arm was around her, but this time Jemma wasn’t shy about snuggling up to him, and their hands were entwined in her lap. It was the last holiday of their undergraduate careers, and they were once more musing about their futures.

“I think I’m going to apply for the graduate program and go for my PhD,” Jemma said, staring across the conservatory at the twinkling fairy lights her father had hung around the edges of the ceiling. “I’m well on my way to having the required degree for it. And it will do wonders for wanting to go into biochemical research.”

“You should,” Fitz replied, his breath stirring her hair. “I’m already getting the paperwork together to apply to the graduate program at MIT. It’s just... “ He sighed. “I’m not really looking forward to three more years without you.”

Jemma’s heart sank. “Or more,” she said quietly, thinking of how his graduate program was set up to take longer than hers.

He squeezed her hand. “Or more.”

They fell silent then, each lost in their thoughts; all Jemma could think about was how much she had missed him over the past three and a half years, and how the past year in particular had been more difficult since they’d gotten together as a couple. She didn’t know if she could go another three years or more, but at the same time, she knew that Fitz was worth it. That didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling a little hopeless in the moment, though.

“We’ll make it to Perthshire someday, eventually,” she said, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably.

“I know we will,” Fitz replied, sounding just as glum. “And I know we’re making the best decisions for us individually, for our education and for our careers, but… I won’t lie, it’s hard, being without you.”

Something about the tone of his voice made a thread of fear wind around her heart. “Too hard?” she asked, almost dreading his answer.

Fitz sat up a little, forcing her to lift her head from his shoulder and properly sit up as well to face him. “No,” he said seriously, squeezing his arm around her shoulders, “Not at all.” He paused for a moment, seemingly marshalling his thoughts, then looked her in the eye. “I know we haven’t been together like this for very long, only a year, and we’ve been apart for most of it. But we’ve been _together_ long enough for me to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Before the impact of his words had time to sink in, Fitz shifted to slide off the bench and down onto one knee on the ground in front of her. Jemma gasped as tears sprung to her eyes, her hands flying up to cover her mouth, but he caught them in his own hands and squeezed them tight.

“No matter where we go from here,” he said, his eyes shining and his mouth trembling, “no matter how long it takes us to get to a place where we can finally be together, _all_ the time--I know I’ll always have a home in you.” He let go with one hand to fumble at reaching into his pocket, and Jemma choked on a tiny sob when he pulled out a ring to hold out to her, a small diamond sparkling proudly on top. He sucked in a shaky breath. “Jemma Simmons, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Jemma blurted, her happy tears spilling over. She eagerly slid forward on the bench to take his face in her hands and pull him to her so she could press ecstatic, joyful kisses to his lips, made a bit sloppy by the wide smile on Fitz’s face. When they finally split, Jemma laughed happily, and looked down as Fitz took her hand to carefully slide the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly. They both stared at it for a moment before he moved to sit next to her on the bench again.

“You’ve made me the happiest man on Earth,” he said, beaming, and took her by the arms to tug her to him. She turned to swing her legs up over his lap, sitting sideways on the bench so he could pull her close enough to wrap his arms around her and rest his forehead on hers. “I know we should go tell our parents,” he added, “but please, can we stay out here just a few more minutes, just us by ourselves?”

Jemma smiled again and nuzzled her nose against his, then gave him a soft peck on the lips. “We can stay here for as long as you like,” she murmured, completely taken by how happy he was. “Future husband of mine.”

Fitz looked like she’d just turned his insides to mush. “Christ, I like the way that sounds,” he breathed.

Her smile widened. “Get used to it,” she teased. “Because I’ll be saying it a lot.”

-:-

A slow song was playing, and Fitz and Jemma were one of the only couples left on the small dance floor as the reception wound down, the two of them oblivious to anyone except each other as they turned in tiny circles to the languid beat of the music. Jemma’s cheek rested on Fitz’s shoulder and his arm was snug around her waist, keeping her close, and his thumb slowly stroked across the knuckles of the hand he held, brushing over the new ring that sat on her finger. They were completely wrapped up in each other, and it felt perfect.

It had taken them three more years, but they had finally made it. Jemma had finished her doctorate at Cambridge the previous month. Fitz still had one year to go on his, working on an advanced track, but she would be joining him in Boston and working as a research fellow at Harvard. And now they were married. They were both thrilled beyond measure and couldn’t wait to get moved into the apartment they’d just leased. Finally, they were through with video calls and long-distance texts and only being together for a few months out of the year. Now they could really be together and get started on the next chapter of their lives.

“Have I mentioned yet that you look beautiful?” Fitz murmured as they turned in another slow circle.

Jemma smiled against his shoulder, feeling the effervescent happiness that had persisted within her all day pulse warmly in her chest. “You might have, once or twice,” she replied lightly.

She felt a quiet laugh rumble through his chest. “Well, you do,” he said. “You look amazing. I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

Jemma could have teased him more, but she understood where he was coming from. It was hard for her to grasp, too, that their wedding day had finally arrived and all their long years of separation were finally over; that her best friend was now her husband, and that she never had to leave him again.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband,” she replied softly, and Fitz tightened his arm around her in reply.

“Can’t wait to defend my thesis,” he said. “Then we’ll really be free. We can go wherever we want, and really start our lives together.”

Jemma smiled again as they kept dancing. “There’s a few good engineering and tech firms in and around Glasgow. Maybe we can still have Perthshire.”

Fitz laughed again. “Have you been searching behind my back?”

“Maybe.”

He nudged at her with their joined hands until she lifted her head to look at him, and he was already smiling down at her. He leaned in to give her a brief, soft kiss. “Remember,” he said against her lips, “wherever we go together is home now. No matter what. Boston, Perthshire, wherever--as long as I have you, I’m home.”

Jemma smiled as her heart expanded even more, taking the happiness and love she felt and raising it to heights even she couldn’t have expected. Fitz was right--as long as they were together, they were home. That had been the truth since they children, all the way through the years as they grew and matured into adults. It was just official now. They belonged together. And there was nothing in the world--distance, time, or anything else--that could take that away from them.  


End file.
